


snowdrops in spring

by chidorinnn



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chidorinnn/pseuds/chidorinnn
Summary: When everything gets to be too much, Akira runs to the school rooftop. Technically, students aren't allowed up there without clearance — and so he's accidentally recruited into the school's gardening club.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Okumura Haru, Okumura Haru/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	snowdrops in spring

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to [Aerith's theme in the _Final Fantasy VII_ remake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v00zgpuakRA) a lot lately, and... this happened?

The day after they steal Kamoshida’s heart, Morgana sleeps in and fails to wake up in time for school, Ryuji stays home on account of his leg bothering him, and Ann skips in favor of visiting Suzui in the hospital.

Ryuji texts him during class, but it’s a broken and fragmented conversation interspersed with long breaks. Ann doesn’t respond to the group chat at all. Yesterday’s fatigue blankets everything in a dull, sickly haze that has Akira mentally kicking himself for not at least trying to stay home. The high of taking down Kamoshida’s Shadow has quieted into a weariness that’s settled into his bones, punctuated with the uncertainty that despite everything, this _still_ might not work.

There’s been no word of anything changing in the real world – nothing from Kamoshida, walking back on his promise to advocate for his expulsion. Nothing like anger or vitriol from Sakura-san, proving that Akira’s fucked this up, too.

Come lunch, there’s nothing that demands his attention – nothing but the whispers and accusations that shroud him still, weeks into the school year. He goes to the roof, then; there’s the beginnings of fencing at the edge, a sign on the door indicating that the entire area is off-limits to students – but it’s quiet.

With a weary sigh, Akira slumps to the floor against the fence in a patch of sunlight. He’s not particularly hungry – probably won’t be until all of this blows over, one way or the other – but braving the journey to the school canteen sounds downright torturous at the moment.

He sets an alarm on his phone and lightly closes his eyes. He doesn’t expect to actually fall asleep, with the amount of coffee he’d drank that morning, but just closing out the rest of the world in this small capacity is enough to take the edge off the fatigue, if only for a short while.

Some minutes later, the door opens. “Oh!” he hears a girl’s voice gasp. “I’m so sorry to disturb you. I didn’t think anyone else would be up here!”

Akira cracks his eyes open and glances at the student that’s joined him – a girl with short, curly hair, wearing a pink sweater instead of the school blazer. He hasn’t paid enough attention to the rest of the student body to recognize who she is or even what year she is – but she smiles at him, and there is no suspicion or derision.

She points her thumb over to a series of planters off to the side, far away from where he’s sitting. “I’m just going to be over there, okay? I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

He blinks at her dumbly for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop – but she doesn’t ask about criminal histories or any perceived cues of juvenile delinquency, and so he decides to let it lie for now. “Sure, go ahead,” he says, tiredly, and shifts a bit before closing his eyes again.

And she keeps her word. He can hear her shuffling about the rooftop as she tends to the planters, but she doesn’t try to talk to him. The background noise is comfortable, when it’s not punctuated with chatter, and Akira finds himself dozing off after all. It’s a light enough nap that he’s paradoxically aware of every minute that inches by.

Five minutes before his alarm is supposed to go off, footsteps approach him. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet, but he can feel her crouching down before him, close bot not so deeply in his space that he’s inclined to tell her to back off. “Hey,” she says softly. “Sorry to bother you, but lunch is going to be over soon.”

He blinks awake, and shoves his hands under his glasses to rub at his eyes. There’s no tension to the way she holds herself before him – no suspicion or derision that keeps her at a distance. “Thanks,” is all he can manage, and it comes out in half a croak as he hauls himself to his feet.

She smiles at him, and gives him a little wave before heading to the door. “Have a good rest of your day!” she says before leaving him there.

It’s uncomplicated in its simplicity – a comfort he hasn’t known in months. He holds onto that feeling for the rest of the day, and it dulls the edges of the whispers and accusations that shroud him as he makes his way back to his classroom.

* * *

A week later, nothing has changed. It’s hard to say what exactly they should be looking out for, with Kamoshida, but there’s still nothing from him walking back on his promise to advocate for Akira’s expulsion, or vitriol from Sakura-san that proves that Akira’s fucked this up. The group chat keeps going off, and his phone won’t shut up; every vibration sets him just a little bit more on edge. Akira doesn’t quite run up to the rooftop during lunch, but he does walk faster than necessary.

When the door slides shut behind him, something in him releases. The girl from before, with the short, curly hair and the pink sweater, smiles sweetly at him from where she’s standing by the planters. He gives her an awkward wave in return by heading to his spot by the fence.

As he sinks to the floor, he takes stock of the situation: Kamoshida still hasn’t confessed to anything. Suzui is still in the hospital. Ryuji’s taken to wearing a brace on his bad leg, which Ms. Chouno had snorted in derision at the first day he showed up to school with it. Kamoshida hasn’t said a word to Ann in days. Sakura-san’s still threatening to kick him out with the slightest misstep.

It’s not quite panic that seizes him then, but thinking about it all invites a certain weariness to settle in his bones. It was bad enough to dump Morgana onto Ann with zero warning and mute the group chat, but the guilt pales in comparison to the fact that everything is still, despite their apparent success in Kamoshida’s Palace, _too much_.

It’s pointless to hide away like this, but he can’t bring himself to _move_.

The girl stares at him for a long moment, brows pinching together into something that’s not quite suspicion, not quite derision. “Um…” she says. “Are you…?”

—but then the door to the rooftop swings open, and his homeroom teacher steps out. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, his head going so light that it’s a wonder he doesn’t pass out or throw up right then and there. There’s no suspicion or derision in Kawakami’s expression, but there _is_ disapproval, and that’s not something he’s been able to afford for months. “You’re not supposed to be up here,” is all she says.

Akira clenches his fists, and tries very hard to slow his breathing. He hadn’t been particularly subtle about coming up here – someone had to have seen, and then alerted the teacher that he was about to do _something_ up here. Smoke, maybe. Drugs, in the loosest sense. Challenge someone to a fight. Someone had to have noticed, and he can count on one hand the number of people at this school that wouldn’t think to screw him over with it.

_Is that it, then?_ he wonders. All of it ruined not because of Kamoshida, but because he picked the worst possible spot to run away to, after failing to hold it well enough together to not run away in the first place. He bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut, and braces himself for the worst.

But then the girl gasps, exaggeratedly sharp and dramatic. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Kawakami!” she says. “I recruited him for the gardening club, you see. I was so excited to find someone else that was interested that I figured we could just get started right away!”

Kawakami frowns. “You know that students need clearance to be up here, Okumura-san.”

The girl, Okumura, clasps her hands together tightly. “I do! I’m sorry for getting ahead of myself… Please don’t be mad. It’s _my_ fault, not his. If there’s anything I can do to fix this, then please—”

“Ah…” Kawakami says slowly, raising her hands and backing up towards the door. “Don’t… Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” She opens the door, but turns to Akira before she can leave and says, “Please take your club duties seriously, Kurusu-kun. Don’t let Okumura-san down.”

He should say something – anything – but the words catch in his throat, and it’s all he can do to force himself to nod. Kawakami leaves then, and he knows that he should move, apologize to Okumura, thank her for covering for him – but he can’t _move_.

Okumura makes her way over to him, crouching down to his level. “It’s okay,” she says gently. “You’re not in trouble, see? Everything’s fine.”

Akira raises his head, and peers at her through smudged glasses and unruly bangs. She’s smiling at him, more gently than anyone has in months. He swallows, his throat going oddly dry, and ducks his head in a pitiful excuse for a bow. “Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Okumura shakes her head. “It was no trouble at all.”

With little fanfare or awkwardness, she goes back to her gardening. There should be _more_ than that – she had to have heard the rumors about him. Not every student can be as obnoxious as those who whisper about him as he passes by them in the halls, speculating on his past as if he can’t hear them. But Okumura, somehow, can be slotted into the same category as Ryuji, Ann, and Suzui: someone who’s willing to look at _him_ before his criminal record, and be kind to him on that basis alone.

It leaves him feeling oddly unsteady. He sits there for a long moment, just watching her – and she doesn’t look in his direction again. There’s something deliberate about it: it doesn’t feel like she’s ignoring him, but it gives him the space to breathe all the same.

Slowly, he staggers to his feet and makes his way over to the planters. “So…” he mumbles. “What should I…?”

Okumura smiles. “That’s okay,” she says. “I wasn’t actually trying to recruit you, or anything. I just didn’t want you to get into trouble.”

“That’s…” Akira says, quietly. “Thank you, but I still owe you one.”

Okumura looks at him for a long moment, then holds up a pair of gardening shears. “Then… for now, can you help me with pruning?”

He smiles. “I can do that.”

It’s been months since he last attempted anything in the garden, but it comes back to him easily enough. She doesn’t try to correct him, which can only mean that he’s doing _something_ right. “I’m Haru Okumura, by the way,” she says. “Third year.”

“Akira Kurusu,” he introduces himself.

If she’s heard anything about his criminal record or why he’s here, she doesn’t ask – not even when they leave the rooftop together and the whispers begin anew, this time enveloping them both. He slides back into his seat in his classroom, feeling oddly warm. The first thing he does is take Morgana back from Ann; the second is to unmute the group chat.

Somehow, he finds himself looking forward to the next club meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
